The Famine of a Butterfly
by theintuitivealmond
Summary: Star wakes up to find that she's hungry. A short stint in the life of a Butterfly. If you enjoyed the story, continue to support the author by commenting or subscribing. Your happiness or hate are more than enough reasons to keep creating; thank you for your time!


This series of events occurs two days before the Love Sentence concert with Star having a problem: in the 48+ hours before the concert, it had been a dismissal 2 since Star had eaten. "Marco!" yelled Star. Her voice beat louder than her hunger pangs, hunger a great incentive for adventure, and of this Star was quite famished. "Marco Diaz! Where are you?" Star checked every nook and cranny between her room and his, her search having exhausted any chance of Marco being in the hallway or her room, a reality that Star found all too silly: what would the young man be doing in her room?

If one chose to go through this rabbit hole, a quiet pastime of Star's as of late, they would see, to Star's chagrin, that it branched out the deeper you went. She could do many things with Marco, games and adventure by far the greatest leisure she wished to pursue with him. To her dismay, this unlimited resource was also the source of her annoyance. She was perturbed by the amount of time she wished to spend with Marco, the type of comfort she enjoyed with him not unlike that of the laser puppies which, cute as they were, were beginning to cause a bit of trouble for Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, and which she promised to get rid of as soon as Marco mentioned something to her about them for how could she get rid of something so adorable otherwise?

Star, as anyone who has had the virtue to meet her, was a haughty girl, with passion warm enough to temper glass who had, in her youthful spirit, a childish finesse one would find in a young gymnast or ballerina; everything had to be perfect and when it wasn't, nothing was. "Marco Diaz! Show yourself this instant or I will barge into your room without asking, and we would _NOT_ want a repeat of last time, now would we?" She knocked on his door, the abrasions caused by the wooden surface cutting away a thin layer of skin. This would not do for a lady so refined as her.

"That's it, you had your chance!" She took a step back and, swift like a Mewni hare, took out her wand. Star was from a long line of strong, fierce woman and from an even longer line of fools who tried to please them. It was not known what attracted Mewni queens to this sort of man, this unfit variety that acted as countenance to the coarse and often distant nature Mewni rulers developed when thrust into their position of power, but this fatal attraction always made royal weddings quite an excursion; it was deemed, nay well-known, throughout the land that Star's father was the cream of the crop when it came to royal marriages.

"Narwhal Blast!"

It was not known if Star had inherited her disposition for action from River's seed, or if like a lioness learning from her fraudulent father, she had developed this keen instinct from repeated exposure. All that was known was this who Star was: The Star Butterfly.

The door blew off its hinges and if the Diaz parents had been home, she was sure she would have received quite the scolding. No dust blew into the air; this feat was common enough. Through repeated exposure Star had learned Marco could survive the weight of a door, though not without qualms on his part. She quietly hopped on the door, no groan or retort reaching her ear. A thorough search of his room yielded no results; Marco wasn't there. Was there no one in the house?

Star pounced on the rooms lofty mattress and looked outside. She had been asleep for around 2 hours; where had everyone gone? Under the windowsill she could see the outline of Marco on his favorite cactus; he had really done a number on it the last time he had fallen. She sighed, the movement uncommon, and looked towards the ceiling. What was she going to do today? She had wanted to hang out with Marco. Her blond hair bounced as she laid on Marco's mattress; for a moment it seemed like her horned-hairband would pop off. She stretched her arms, her body pressed firmly against any surface it could grab.

Star felt different; she was overcome with what she could over register as unfamiliar fear (after a thorough search of a dictionary and Marco's computer, Star was sure the name of such a disorder was called Melancholia). She grew pensive. Where was Marco?

Or better yet, who was Marco with?

Her breast stopped mid-peak. Could he be with Jackie? Was he with Jackie right now? Star cradled her shoulders as her mother had done when she was young. Months of fighting Ludo, losing her wand, and this was what scared her the most; she suckled this fear.

Star had always been afraid of monsters; not the creatures that lurked within her kingdom, but monsters. The kind that were always underneath her bed. The kind always hiding behind her curtain; the monsters you could not see were always the worst; there was fear in what you could not control.

Stars breathing settled. Marco wasn't with Jackie, she knew Marco would be unable to see her till the concert; Jackie was busy till then.

Star sat up and wiggled her toes. Being Marco's friend was proving to be quite difficult. Marco was a weak-willed person, fearful enough to run from a dragon with a will too inundated to saddle a unicorn; Marco was the cream of the crop when it came to being a wimpy friend. But still, Marco was her friend and she loved him for it. Marco meant a lot to her; if only she could tell where he was. Marco, on many ruminations of his own, had sat in the very same spot; Star knew this. And may it be from ruminations of her own, she grew to realize, whether she liked it or not, that she did not belong there; this was not her room. Star placed both feet on solid ground, a little pop consolidating her sole or arch.

"What the-?" she murmured as she bent to examine the now slightly cracked and deeply bent piece of plastic that she assumed used to be an earring. "Marco's not gonna like this." No matter, be as it may she was still hungry; she could figure out these things later. She cupped the tiny trinket in her palm and headed for the kitchen. Star's pitter-patter down the stairs amused her more than she would like to admit; her body seemed to be talking but with its feet. She simpered off the last step, twirling her waist; she wished someone had seen her, she knew she looked adorable. A light shuffle from the door flitted her amusement. With a gentle turn on the knob, she spied the outline of her favorite compadre against the wooden vignette.

The Mewni royal family can be traced, at the very least, ten generations back with names like Etheria and Eclipsa decorating the kingdom much as photos and tapestries do a house. Everyone in the land of Mewni, from local Mewnians to the deepest demons, knew of the valiant and often offending deeds performed by the Royal family; it is through this memory that a portrait of their deeds and character lives on. If an artist, in need of a little love and luck, were to draw a portrait of Marco they would see, just as a middle-school art teacher had once said, that you would see "a boy who was not quite sure if he hated everything due to the annoyance it caused him or if the idea of annoyance caused him to hate"; while a sweet boy, Marco was known to have his bouts of peripheral anguish. The perennial first child of the Diaz household, Marco was the conglomerate of what happened when too much happiness was given to a child too quickly.

"Oh hey, Star. I thought you said sleeping was a full-time job; I wasn't sure if you would be up or not." Marco shut the door behind him, shifting his backpack from his left shoulder to his right.

He was rather small for his age, roughly the same size as Star who had yet to hit any significant growth; no doubt, she knew, she would be taller than him. His skin was lighter than willow, softer too. Of hardships, he had none, of patience he had little. He was, to Star's chagrin, as far away from an ideal friend or man as Star would ever hope to know. But he was sweet. And he made her laugh. "Marco! Oh my gosh, you're back! Where were you?"

"Calm down, Star; you make it sound like I was gone forever. I was just hanging out with Jackie."

"Oh? I thought she wasn't free till the concert."

"She wasn't supposed to be but, she needed help with her homework. I was thinking of inviting you, but you have the patience of a wild cat; I doubt you would have contained yourself the entire time."

"Come on, Marco. I'm not that bad."

"You drew unicorns and marshmallows on the last test you turned in."

"Yeah," Star chided," I wanted it to dazzle."

"Star, you pasted actual marshmallows to the sheet."

"I wanted to pass, too."

Marco fell into the couch; it was not the most weight the love-bed had ever taken, but it creaked nevertheless. Star remained standing: she was a lady of very refined taste and had sat down enough that day.

"So did you two lovebirds get enough studying done?" She chimed.

"Stop it, Star. It wasn't anything like that." He yawned. The movement exposed his neck; a thin red mark was nestled above his collar. "We just studied."

Since the early days of Mewnie, the task of protecting the kingdom of the people had fallen to the Royals of old. Before Star it had been her mother, Queen Moon; before Queen Moon, it had been Queen Comet. This lineage, burnt out and relit, stretched back as far as the beginning times, or as far as the Butterflies were willing to remember. Plagues, wars, and monsters had forever pillaged the land of Mewni, and it was common knowledge amongst the Butterflies that these instances would never stop; they would only be censored. Much as earth governments limited the information given to their people, Mewni royalty did the same, the act of lying and treason a common tutorial for soon to be Queens and Kings. This exercise was given in the guise of "the people's protection", for how could the people ever be satisfied with truth? Knowledge is for those who have the capacity to comprehend. As the next Butterfly in line, Star was already prolific in what the people should and should not know, but as to the "why" or reason, she was not quite sure; all she knew was she was to go according to the rules set by her parents. To her, this seemed like one of those peace-keeping moments.

In her time being Marco's friend, Star had grown used to lies, namely his. "I'm alright, Star" or "I'm sure you had nothing to do with this" were common enough that Star thought little of them, much as a desert-walker would think little of a sand grain when compared to a dune; it was only when she acknowledged a storm that trouble began. Star also had another problem.

If she acknowledged, hypothetically, a part of him, a part she did not like or care to have acknowledged, she would have to receive an answer, if not due to coy circumstance than at least due to her own curiosity: she wanted to know, she wanted answers, which played into another stubborn reality: she didn't want an answer. "Whatever you say, lover-boy" She laughed, her voice rising too high then too low. It was instances like these that she often lied to herself, too: to her chagrin she was madly in love with him, and she refused to admit she wanted to be more than friends. Star was a Butterfly: she had to be refined in times like this.

"Than what did you do?" she said, falling into the couch beside him. "You were gone for quite some time." Star, of course, had no way to prove this claim outside of intuition, but her words were easily credited by Marco. "It was only a few hours, Star. I've spent longer trying to wake Glossaryck."

"But still, it was a whi—"

"—hold on Star, I'm getting a call." Marco stood up and walked towards the stairs. Star knew who the caller was; Marco was never so excited when his parents called. She sat up, cross legged, and began tapping on her knee. She heard a low crack, and realized she still held the earrings.

"Ummmm, Marco," she said, standing. "There's something I need to ask you." She walked towards him, their earlier conversation over.

"I don't want to sound mean, Star, but can it wait? Jackie's not feeling so good. I'm going to go back and see what's wrong."

"But you were just there, Marco."

"I know, but she seems to have suddenly come down with something. Maybe it was something she ate. She told me not to buy food form that stand; why didn't I listen? I would hate to think her pain was caused from something I did."

"Marco, she has parents; there's no need for you to be there. Doctor's aren't meant to cut corn; you don't need to be there."

"Did you say something intelligent for once, Star?" Marco chuckled. "That really isn't like you."

Star clasped her hands behind her back. She caressed the earrings between her thumb and her index finger. "I'm not always going to be here, Marco. One day you may regret what you say to me."

"…Star, are you alright?"

"Marco!" Star yelled. "If I told you I'm sick, would you stay?" Marco was caught off guard by this; his compatriot was acting quite different today. Having spent the better part of the past few months with this bright and untethered specimen, it came as a surprise that he, as attentive as he was, had never come across this maiden-state.

"Pardon?"

Star continued. "Would you stay, if I'm sick, that is?" Whatever energy Star had a moment ago vanished, her courage collapsing into itself, consuming everything. Marco, a traveler of worlds, thought of anyway to evade the conversation. He wanted to be on his way, but he was unable to leave while Star was on her episode.

"Sure, Star." He conceded. "If you're sick, I'll stay instead. What exactly is wrong with you?"

"Marco, I'm…hungry."

"…pardon?"

"I said I'm hungry, and no matter how much I eat, I'm not full. No matter how much I sleep, I'm never restored. At first, I thought it was the pressure of our adventures, or breaking my wand, but that's not it, Marco. I'm not full and I want more; I don't know how to stop myself. I'm content with everything but, like a rat in a corn field, I can't stop eating. I want to devour everything, I want to make it disappear. Marco, I'm a woman dying of hunger; tell me, why can't I stop eating?"

Marco fidgeted, the awkwardness getting to him. "Star, if you're hungry, just eat. There's no reason I should feed you. I need to go see Jackie." He readjusted his backpack. "There's food in the fridge. If you want, borrow some money from my room. I know you know where I keep it."

"But Marco—". Star pressed down against the tiny earrings. She felt another crack.

Marco paused at the door. "Star?"

"Yes, Marco?" Her expression brightened.

"If you find a pair of earrings in my room, would you make sure not to step on them? They're a gift I got for Jackie." Star paused. "Oh, really?" She smashed the earrings between her fingers. "Yeah, they were the ones my mom first wore when she started dating my Dad. I know it sounds cheesy, but I would really like to give them to her."

Star simpered. "Don't worry, Marco. I'll make sure to take care of them accordingly when I find them." Marco said his goodbyes and left. When he had closed the door, Star looked at her fingers. She was bleeding, the thin plastic of the ornament engraved into her flesh. She brushed off the blood and cheap plastic.

Star was hungry; nothing else mattered to her. She walked to the kitchen, hoping to stifle her hunger.

To her surprise, there was nothing to eat.


End file.
